


Absolute

by vanceypants



Series: Through Sickness and In Health [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, alternate universe - Jeremy Heere is dying, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 18:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17268896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: "Everyone dies, Jeremy.  That's my point." The Squip fixes his eyes on Jeremy's, his other hand reaching out, just for a moment, before dropping back down to the bedspread.  His lips press together tightly, and it’s so close to uncertainty that Jeremy may have been forgiven for mistaking him for human.  "I'm not...I'm not designed for this," He admits quietly."Jeremy seeks reassurance after the news of his own mortality hits him hard.  Maybe the Squip isn't designed for comfort, but if he's going to be sharing this failing body with Jeremy, the least he can do is lend a holographic ear and shoulder.





	Absolute

**Author's Note:**

> Theoretically this could be read as platonic. But I'd be lying if I said that was the intention.  
> I might write more drabbles within this universe, if anyone is interested in any sort of continuation. Not sure yet. I hope you enjoy!

“Death is an absolute, Jeremy. You might say it’s the only human absolute.”

The Squip stares out the window, and Jeremy wonders not for the first time why he can't show the faintest element of empathy for Jeremy. He lives inside his head, after all. He's surrounded by his emotions, his neurons, his hiccuping insecurities. How has none of that rubbed off, softened, made him anywhere closer to-

"Human?" The Squip fixes electric blue eyes onto Jeremy. His arms fold over the impeccable folds of his suit. "Do I need to remind you that I'm not?"

"N-no, you're...you're doing a really good job of, um, of making sure I don't forget that." Jeremy hates the wobble to his own voice more than he hates the coldness to the Squip's face. He stares down at his feet.

And thinks about absolute zero. Or maybe just the absence of existence. And his mind sways dangerously as his stomach buckles under the weight of nausea and fear.

The Squip rises from his seat near the window. He stands before Jeremy, as Jeremy keeps his own eyes trained on the tops of his sneakers. The shoelaces are worn and he wonders if there's any sense in bothering to replace them anymore. His toes curl within the canvas, and he fidgets with his bedspread.

"There are breakthroughs in medical science every day," the voice is slow, not quite uncertain, but there's a strained sense of uneasiness to it.

Jeremy looks up, though the Squip's eyes remain just passed Jeremy, looking at the wall behind him. Movie posters and gaming stickers and juvenile heirlooms that Jeremy wouldn't mature enough to ever replace. 

"Thinking like that is counterproductive," The Squip reprimands.

"Why? Are you...are you going to say that I, like, need to keep a, um, healthy positive outlook too?"

"You're being difficult."

"I think I've earned the right." Jeremy bites the inside of his cheek and glances to the carpet again. He feels his brain agitate, and knows the Squip too well to convince himself its his own thoughts swirling.

It's an odd sensation, sharing a consciousness with a second being. Most days he thinks he's adjusted well enough.

Some days, he wants his brain to himself.

Today, though, he doesn't want any of it. Could he convince the Squip to chemically lobotomize him? Or at least lock up the memories of doctor's appointments and his father's tears and the pressing realization that he still needs to tell Michael and _oh god how is he going to tell Michael?_

"We'll do that tomorrow."

"We," Jeremy scoffs.

When he catches the Squip's expression, tense and almost contorted in a mood that Jeremy dares not question too deeply, he almost feels bad. He shoves his hands into his pockets and falls back against his mattress, staring at the dusty glow stars on his ceiling.

"I'll help you figure out what to say."

"No. I need...I need to do this alone."

"Counterproductive." Another verbal loop. Jeremy looks at him, and for a moment wonders if the poison of his own blood is damaging the Squip's code, impairing his words, his vocabulary, his--

The Squip almost smiles, taking a seat beside him on the bed. Jeremy remains laying, as cybernetic sensation crawls over his shoulder, where the Squip lays his hand against him. "Yes. Your disease will damage me as it progresses further. You really shouldn't be worrying about that right now. But what I'm saying is counterproductive is this infantile martyr complex you're harboring."

"Y-you know, like, um," He hates his stutter at the best of times, but his tongue feels too heavy now. He swallows, unsticks it from the roof of his mouth, "you could be, um, comforting me-"

"I'm trying." The fingers against his shoulder tense. Jeremy watches the way the sunlight gleams through the window, never quite catching the Squip's profile.

Right. Because he isn't solid, he has nothing with which to cast shadows. 

"They were working on squips for this purpose, when I was in the process of beta testing." His fingers move over Jeremy's arm, and though Jeremy knows the sensation is an advanced hallucination, a twist of manipulation in his mind to replicate feeling, his skin prickles with goosebumps all the same. 

"What, like doctors?"

"No. Hospice care."

Jeremy's stomach drops. "So...so I am dying." It was what the doctor had said too, albeit with less edge and more jargon.

It hurt more, hearing it from the supercomputer in his head. Why did it hurt so much more to hear it from the Squip?

"Everyone dies, Jeremy. That's my point." The Squip fixes his eyes on Jeremy's, his other hand reaching out, just for a moment, before dropping back down to the bedspread. His lips press together tightly, and it’s so close to uncertainty that Jeremy may have been forgiven for mistaking him for human. "I'm not...I'm not designed for this," He admits quietly. 

"Right. You, um, you're supposed to be helping me 'get the girl.'"

"Improving your life. Yes." His hand drops down Jeremy's arm, until his fingers are against his wrist. His digits press against the veins, as though seeking out his pulse. "I'm not programmed with the platitudes that'll make you happy."

And though Jeremy understands exactly what he's saying, he smiles faintly. "English, please?"

"I'm not going to spout a bunch of bullshit just to make you feel better in the short term."

Jeremy sighs, pulling himself upright. His hand slips into the Squip's, and he doesn't protest as their fingers intertwine. 

"You're right," He says. "You really aren't designed for this. So, uh, so these hospice squips. They say nice things and hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright?"

"Theoretically. Why? Are you thinking about replacing me?"

Jeremy knows better than to expect jealousy in his voice. But he still swears its painted into his tone all the same.

"I dunno. Maybe I'd get...like, I'd get a catgirl nurse or something. That wouldn't be so bad."

"If your issue is my physical form, that can be changed."

"R-right. Sexy anime female." Jeremy hugs one of his knees to his chest with one arm, the other still dangling beside the Squip's, hands still interlocked. "No. I, um, I like you like this. I mean, I'm used to you like this, anyway. Besides, what's the point now?"

"The point is finally being brave enough to go after what you want." There's a pause, as the Squip thoughtfully rubs his thumb over the back of Jeremy's hand. "You do deserve that, you know."

"I know," Jeremy lies.

"No you don't. But that's why you have me in the meantime."

Jeremy fights the urge to lay his head against the Squip's shoulder. He's probably pressing it with the hand holding. But it’s as though releasing his hold will leave him drifting into oblivion, and he's not quite ready to face life without that support just yet.

"Um. Can I ask you something?"

"It's not like I can stop you."

"Is...do you think..." Jeremy trails off time after time, licking lips that are too dry, as he finally focuses his speech. "Is it going to hurt?"

The Squip's gaze is too intense. Having someone see straight through you, inside you, someone who you can't keep a secret from, leaves Jeremy dizzy every time he dares to think too deeply about their bond.

And he regrets it asking. Because the Squip is many things, but he's not a liar. And Jeremy isn't quite sure if he's ready for anymore truths right now.

"No." He finally says. "I can diminish the pain. You won't suffer."

"Even if...um, you said it might damage you too, even then-"

"I'll re-calibrate and direct my energy as needed. I'm not going to let it hurt."

"Good. I mean, thank you. I, um. Sorry. Is it...is it going to hurt you?"

The Squip looks forward, his hand tightening in Jeremy's. A small laugh, rare and melodic and startling, escapes him. "Why would you waste your time worrying about that? I'm a supercomputer."

It’s not an answer. Jeremy frowns.

"You'll...you'll die too, won't you?"

"Again, that's a waste of-"

"But you will. When I...you'll die too."

"My objective will be complete. You don't need to worry about that."

Jeremy's chest burns and his stomach twists, and he feels a clammy sweat to his skin at guilt of dragging his Squip into this mess. He could have been in anyone. Instead-

"Stop." The Squip faces him again, tone sharp, eyes narrow. "Everyone dies, Jeremy. Everyone." His hand tightens as Jeremy starts to pull his hand away, even as his expression softens. "I'm incapable of feeling bitter about who my host is or the circumstances they've brought me--although admittedly it wouldn't hurt if you were less of a chronic masturbator--" Jeremy smiles despite himself, despite the warm tingling of his blush along his neck, "So it's a waste of your energy to feel bad for me."

"I-"

"Jeremy. I wouldn't choose anywhere else to be even if I could."

It must have been too much for him, the sincerity in his own tone. The Squip releases Jeremy's hand, folding his arms against his chest as he leans back against the headboard.

Jeremy scoots closer, finally giving in to placing his head against the Squip's shoulder.

"Um. If I'm...well, since I'm dying, anyway. Does that mean, um, that I get a Make A Wish with you or something?"

The Squip raises an eyebrow. "I'm not a charity, Jeremy."

"I think this means, um, that you have to take me to Disneyworld."

"Unlikely."

"Not impossible though."

The Squip rolls his eyes, as he unfolds his arms to place one hand around Jeremy's shoulders. Jeremy smiles. "You'd be cute with, um, Mickey Mouse ears."

"Nobody is going to mourn a shameless furry."

"Disney is for everyone! And, um, fyi, talking about mourning is definitely, like, a bad form of comforting."

The Squip's eyes flicker over Jeremy's face. "You're smiling. Obviously I did something right."

"Yeah." Jeremy agrees despite himself, his hand curled over the Squip's chest, gently bunching over where he'd have a pulse if he were alive. The fear fades, pulling back like the tide, and Jeremy can almost pretend it's another normal day, full of schemes of getting a girlfriend and going off the college. "I guess you did."


End file.
